Golden Butterfly Kisses
by the corrupted quiet one
Summary: A story of when an American who doesn't believe in magic learns from the Golden Witch herself. Alfred/Beatrice. Written for a dear friend  thus the dedication


**Golden Butterfly Kisses**

_For my Italian Golden Witch herself, Beato_

Alfred remembered all the witch stories he'd heard from his elder brother Arthur when he was a little boy. How could he forget the stories that frightened him so much when he was just a boy?

Witches were ugly old hags covered in warts dressed in black, mixing bubbling brews of lord knew what only missing the special ingredient of small children to make it right. Witches rode brooms and cackled into the night, sending chills up everyone's spines and snatch people up in the night (and not like how they do in Lincoln Park). Witches were evil, nasty creatures with wiry black hair and skin green as the sewer water beneath a bustling city. Witches had creepy ebony cats with piercing yellow eyes creeping around their feet and hissing at all who didn't have a heart as black as their mistresses. And, most importantly, witches were not the least bit kind or loving.

However, Alfred never expected to meet _her,_ the witch that would change his stereotypes forever.

It was just an average fall evening when Alfred met her, the Golden Witch, as the American walked home from work. The golden caramel blond was walking down the pavement (or as he called it "sidewalk"), trying to get back to his house quickly after the conference.

The sun had already set, a deep violet painting the sky, a sliver of a moon shining faintly in the nearly starless sky. Crisp icy breezes blew on Alfred's neck; nipping at his skin and making the little blond hairs stand on end from the cold. The American had forgotten to bring a scarf with him, thinking that he'd have a ride home with his brother. The only problem with that plan was that he outright didn't see his brother and just started walking home.

All the way home...

As it was getting dark...

He was starting to _really_ think that was a stupid move on his part.

"M-maybe I shoulda looked around for Mattie a little more..." Alfred mumbled, trying to keep positive despite the fact that walking around in the dark scared the ever loving shit out of him, "H-he's not the easiest to see anyway..."

To the right, Alfred was coming up on a patch of woods, the tall dark trees looking utterly sinister in the night. The branches all seemed like they could just go reach out and...

"What am I thinking?" Alfred exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks next to a few of the tallest trees, "Heroes never get scared! _And I'm THE hero!" _He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a glint of determination to not be frightened appearing in his ocean blue eyes.

Suddenly, the creepy sensation of feelers and little feet landing on Alfred's neck sent a wave of shivers down his body.

"AH!" Rather contradictory to his previous vow at remaining composed in the face of danger in the darkness, the blond jumped up nearly a foot in the air and whipped around, determination melting into fear like an ice cream cone melted when abandoned in the Sahara, "GET AWAY!" The man flailed a bit, more or less because it was a reflex.

However, much to the American's relief, it wasn't a blood sucking bat or other form of scary night time creature that had landed on his neck, oh no. Hovering but half a metre away from him was a stunning golden butterfly, delicate shining wings fluttering gracefully as the creature seemed to stare at Alfred.

Alfred stopped his flailing, losing all fear he had before when he saw what had frightened him. "Wow..." He muttered, the golden rays of the butterfly reflecting off his glasses, his mouth gaping in awe, "So...pretty..." Never before had Alfred laid his eyes on such a specimen. It was so fragile...so magnificent...so _magical._

The butterfly, after noticing how it had rather easily caught the American's attention, flew up in the air, doing a little loop before fluttering off into the woods, an aura of light illuminating the darkness of the forest.

"Hey!" Alfred didn't care if he _was _freaked out by the forest; he was going after that butterfly! "Come back, little fella!" His eyes were fixed on the insect fluttering away, darting after the golden bug the way he'd normally dart for a free hamburger.

The butterfly swiftly flew through the woods, leading Alfred deeper and deeper, never losing its wonderful glow as the route home was forgotten and replaced by the longing of following the butterfly. Branches and fallen leaves crackled under Alfred's sneakers, the man panting evenly as he ran, no longer noticing the cold when his muscles were so actively moving. Not once did he even think of turning around and heading back for home. _He was following that butterfly._

It wasn't long, however, before Alfred started feeling a little tired. A Coke and some Lays potato chips from the vending machine at the conference tended to not be the ideal snack before a sprint. Thus, the blond started slowing down, his breathing becoming heavier as he pushed his limit, slowing down against his will. The golden bug kept its pace, however, and flew farther and farther away from Alfred, much to his disappointment.

"H-hey!" Alfred yelled, coughing a bit as his body tried to take in sweet air, "C-c-come back-ck!" He _knew_ his cries were in vain—since when do bugs listen to what people say, anyway?—but he still wished that the butterfly would've slowed down so he could look at it just a little longer...

All the running, having worn the poor American out, caused Alfred's knees to buckle. He fell to the ground, bent over on his knees, hands gripping the fallen leaves and old dirt as he caught his breath. His gaze was fixed on the ground, though his glasses fogged up after just a few of Alfred's heavy pants.

It was _then_ when he realised what he'd done; he'd managed to get himself lost in the scary woods, not having a clue how to get back home and all because of _a butterfly_. _A BUTTERFLY._

"Shit..." Alfred cursed under his breath. Heroes didn't get lost... Heroes always got home safely! Right?

Well, he knew a little too late that he'd gotten himself in a bit of a mess, which only led to the American shutting his eyes and muttering a few more profanities as he tried to think of a way out of this with a scattered mind.

Meanwhile, as Alfred was mumbling things like "Damned donkey-raping shit eater!" and more _colourful_ vocabulary, the golden butterfly returned, bringing with it a crowd of butterflies in fact. As the butterflies all gathered, the silhouette of a woman appeared behind the screen of shining bugs, almost appearing out of thin air.

Alfred didn't notice the butterflies fly over and flutter out to the sides, like a golden curtain soon revealing a woman, likely in her early twenties, in an extravagant somewhat old-fashioned black gown with a golden pattern sewn in and a bit of royal maroon on the breasts and the hem. The woman gazed upon the swearing man with curious sapphire eyes that twinkled in the light of the glowing butterflies flocked around her. Her long gold hair was braided and then fashioned into a bun, just her bangs and a twirling ringlet on each side of her face free. A stunning red rose decorated the woman's hair, complimenting her outfit perfectly. The blonde held a long gold pipe, which she twiddled between her fingers as she observed the strange man that had wandered out to the woods.

"Um, excuse me..." The woman said, speaking in a voice that one would normally hear a regal queen speaking.

Alfred stopped his cursing the moment he heard the other's voice, gasping between another four letter word. The American looked up, his glasses sliding down his nose to nearly the tip, the blue eyes fuzzily making out the image of the beautiful and mysterious woman standing before him. And he thought the _butterflies_ were pretty.

The blonde stared at Alfred a moment, even more interested him having seen his, in her opinion rather attractive, face. "Might I..." She spoke again, "Ask who you are and why you're here?"

"I..." Alfred started, pausing a moment to scramble to his feet, brushing off some of the dirt that got on him and pushing up his foggy glasses, "Why, I'm Alfred F. Jones, Ace Hero, at your service!" In a flash, Alfred put on his signature friendly beaming grin, adding an over theatrical bow to his little introduction, "And...To be honest, my lady, I'm kinda...hehe...lost..." He bit his lip at the last part. Heroes weren't supposed to say they were lost! Especially to beautiful women encountered in the middle of the dark spooky woods at night! Wait...something was wrong with that somewhere...

"Alfred..." The blonde repeated, holding the pipe to her lips as she gave the man another look over, "Pleasant meeting you...Let me guess, you followed the butterflies way out to the middle of nowhere and got led off your path?" It wasn't the first time it happened, but this was the first time the bugs had brought back a curious one so handsome and..._charming._

"Well...Yeah..." Alfred said, a few nervous chuckles following his words as he scratched behind his neck, feeling like a bit of a dope in front of someone who seemed so elegant and classy looking, "The butterflies are just so pretty and..." He let out a sigh, wanting to stop before he sounded like a nine year old instead of a nineteen year old, "N-never mind..."

"Oh, do tell me," The woman said, taking a step towards Alfred, eyes shining with interest, "I want to hear what you thought of _my_ butterflies." As she spoke, the brilliant creatures began to flutter a bit more freely, a few drifting towards Alfred as if to watch him answer.

"_Your_ butterflies?" Alfred's blue eyes widened, "Do you, like...tend butterflies or something?" He'd never heard of anyone who could control butterflies...especially so many. "I mean, don't get me wrong, they're really pretty and all it's just...I didn't know people could have wild pet butterflies." Again, Alfred felt a bit childish, damning himself for making what was, in his opinion, a remark he considered stupid to say in front of woman that were so posh.

The blonde smirked, more than a little amused at the American man's words. He wasn't the most coordinated, it seemed, but there was something about him that gave him a special one of a kind charm that made the woman want to have him keep talking.

"They're not really pets..." She said, pausing to take a quick smoke from her pipe, drawing it to her side before continuing, "They're more necessities. They're simply something to need as me, Beatrice, _the Golden Witch."_ At that, she couldn't help but let out her signature little laugh, "Ahaha~"

Alfred's face grew from one of brief self-scolding to one of near deathly shock. _A WITCH?_

The colour drained from his face as Alfred recalled all the terrifying tales his older brother had told him to give him a fright just before bedtime when he was a little boy. But this woman...she didn't seem like the ones that Arthur said would throw him in a pot and leave to brew before cooking him into a vile stew... Then again a witch was a witch, and you never know if she's in disguise like in Snow White.

"I..." Alfred tried to speak, but it seemed nearly impossible to get his vocal chords to work. His eyes wildly flickered around, unsure whether it was safe. What if, in a moment, all the beautiful butterflies turned to horrifying bats that swooped down to attack his hair and in a flash the blonde would shed her rose and turn into a warty, green, vile hag?

The Golden Witch frowned, pouting her rose tinged lips as she tilted her head. It seemed that this Alfred, Ace Hero, wasn't a magic person. Was it that he didn't believe? That she was a witch? Why, she didn't live a thousand years for someone to think she wasn't a witch!

"Is there a problem, Alfred?" Beatrice inquired, taking another stride forward, "You look like I'm about to impale you with knives or some such thing." She was _not_ bringing up the fact that she _could_ do that, let alone the fact that she _had_ done that.

Alfred took a shaky step back, nearly stumbling over. "W-w-w-w-witch-ch?" Alfred stammered, letting his glasses slide down his nose again. Even heroes got a little scared sometimes, that was an excuse, right?

"You don't believe me?" Beatrice cocked her head, slightly offended that he seemed to doubt her, "As an Endless Witch, I'll have you know that I can control a _lot_ of things, Mr. Jones." Her eyes narrowed. She could control life and death; she felt _that_ would suffice for the range of her power.

"I-it's j-j-just..." Alfred took another awkward step back as Beatrice's eyes turned to slits, "I...I never...m-met a witch before...a-and my brother s-s-said..." Oh where to start with these bedtime spook tales? "Th-that...w-w-witches we-we-were bad people..."

_Bad people._ Beatrice felt just a little bit hurt at the comment, but she didn't entirely show it. Why, she _became_ a witch by _choice. _Time after time she tried until she perfected her magic, striving to become a _true_ witch. To be a witch had always been...her dream...

"Why..." The blonde started, her tone more saddened than before, "Why did he say witches were bad people...?"

Alfred opened his mouth to explain, but then he remembered the ultimate plot hole; _his brother practiced 'magic' _(granted he wasn't the _best_ at it). "Well...erm...be-because..." He thought a moment, "Because they're spiteful! A-and mean! And hateful!"

Beatrice gasped, the words stinging like spears impaling her through the chest. _He can't really think that...can he?_

The American noticed how his view of witches wounded Beatrice, biting his lip hard as he looked to the side. He _knew_ that wasn't the case with Beatrice...if she really was a witch, anyway. "That's...just what my brother told me..." Alfred quickly added, then turned his head to look at the ground.

There was a long pause between the two, the only sound filling the air being the flapping wings of the butterflies as the shifted in the air, some fluttering towards Alfred, and others away.

"I..." Beatrice finally broke the silence, "I see..." She tapped her pipe on her chin, looking at the leaves scattered on the forest floor for a minute before looking up at Alfred from under her long lashes, "Do you feel the same way about _me?"_

Alfred blinked, his neck snapping as he looked back at the witch. He thought of the stories his brother told him—he thought of every single one and recalled every single detail—yet not a single word of those stories fit the description of the woman standing before him. It wasn't the first time his brother had told him a lie, and come to think of it, he did look pretty smug after telling those stories until the poor American hid under his sheets and then woke up with a wet bed (though his brother didn't enjoy cleaning the boy's sheets for him). Still, he had enough trust in his brother to only doubt his words, not wanting to buy into Beatrice's story and perhaps be tricked after all.

"Well no! It's just—" Alfred started, "It's just I'd...I'd like to see your magic, if you don't mind. Witches cast spells and stuff like that, right?" Of course, despite the fear of witches, Alfred wasn't exactly a believer in the witchcraft realm of the paranormal. Ghosts and magic were two _completely_ different subject matters.

"Yes, we do cast spells and all of that..." Beatrice nodded, "The question is, though, can you _believe in them?"_ She wasn't saying she couldn't—because, by god, she could—but she wanted to see if she could crack the American's scepticism.

"Do I believe in them?" Alfred raised a brow, "If you can pull it off..."

"No no no!" The blonde shouted, waving her arms, scaring a few butterflies into flying a few centimetres back, "That's not how it works!"

"What do you mean that's not how it works?" The American frowned, "Can't you just pull a rabbit out of a hat or something?"

At that mark of bluntness, the Golden Witch sighed, rubbing her temples for a moment. Alfred understood as much about witches as a three year old did sex. "Alfred..." She said slowly, "You need love to see the magic, it's the only way you can see the truth of it." As cliché as it sounded, it w_as_ true.

"Love to see...Huh?" Alfred, having been raised on Disney clichés and the backwash of just about everyone in the world's folklore, understood what it meant, but at the same time it seemed out of place to hear it then.

Beatrice let out another sigh, gazing at Alfred, her expression one of pondering as she tried to craft a way to make him understand. _He has a large magical imbalance in him... But I need to make him understand it somehow... A life without magic is like a life without air..._

"For starters..." she said, walking towards Alfred, "You'll have to trust me..."

Alfred stood still as a solid statue as Beatrice advanced, gulping out of nervousness. "Trust you? What are you gonna do?"

"Simple," The witch replied, "I'm going to fix the magical imbalance in you and hope that you can see the magic then." Beatrice walked right up to Alfred, invading his personal space bubble.

"A-alright... But what does that—" Alfred leaned back only slightly as the blonde got so close to him.

"Shh..." Beatrice put a finger on the American's lips, silencing him, "Just close your eyes and let me try something... You must stay still though, _don't move._ Understand?"

Reluctantly, and with a flushed face, Alfred nodded, obeying the witch's command.

"Good..." Beatrice sighed, taking her finger off Alfred's lips, but keeping her eyes on them. She felt a little selfish for thinking up such a plan, but it was a plan none the less and she was willing to test all possibilities at this point.

The butterflies flew in a bit closer, like a crowd of spectators watching a play, all leaning in at the climax as they waited on the edges of their seats to see what happened.

The Golden Witch took a deep breath, wanting to breathe out all her anxieties before she began her plan. _I have to make him have the love to see..._ She thought to herself as she stared up at Alfred's face. Then, slowly, she leaned towards the blond, gently shutting her own eyes as her face grew nearer and nearer to his. The butterflies flew a bit nearer as the space between the two's faces decreased until, finally, their lips met.

The sound of rapidly fluttering wings became a symphony that danced in the air as the two kissed, the witch pressing her lips tenderly on the American's. Alfred, the moment he felt the soft sweet lips on his own, leaned in a little more, every muscle in his body relaxing at the sensation of the peck. Golden butterflies frolicked in the air, surrounding the duo in a bubble of sparkling gold, closing them off from the outside world and leaving them as the only inhabitants in their own little land. Even though all the real butterflies were all around them, both Alfred and Beatrice felt like there were butterflies in their stomachs as well, though the sensation was almost completely dwarfed by the soothing feeling that was the kiss.

After a long moment, Beatrice drew back, ending the kiss, opening her eyes with a bashful smile and a face as red as her rose. "You can open your eyes now...Alfred..." She said a bit softly, looking at the butterflies as the bugs began to slow down from their spinning around the duo and instead disperse.

"That was..." Alfred laughed a bit, that being his reflex to such a thrilling sensation, his blue eyes opening only for him to stop midsentence, his mouth gaping as he saw what had happened in the time in which he shut his eyes.

Instead of the dark forest where the two stood before, Alfred was in a spacious field, magnificent golden roses galore within fenced in gardens that spanned as far as the eye could see. There were set walkways and paths that weaved through all the gated off rose gardens, the butterflies filling the deep violet sky painted with lavender clouds. A marble gazebo-type structure was in the centre of the entire shimmering scene, complete with a small bistro for two and a fine china tea set.

"_Whoa_..." was the only thing that Alfred could say, amazed by the wonders of the flowers, the sky, the butterflies, _THE EVERYTHING!_

"Do you like it, Alfred?" Beatrice asked, stepping back and starting towards the marble structure.

"Yeah..." The blond nodded, looking at everything with the amazement of a small child, "What is this place? How did we get here?" _It's like __**magic**__..._

"This?" Beatrice smirked before twirling around, lifting her arms to show off the eternal garden of gold, "This is the Golden Land! And we got here by the only way we could get here with you like this...Magic!"

"Magic..." Alfred echoed, the yellow light of the plants and the butterflies reflecting off his glasses as he fully took in this new world he'd been taken to, "Beatrice, I...I think I believe it." Alfred's amazed smile grew into an enthusiastic beam, "BEATRICE! I BELIEVE IN MAGIC!"

"Good," The Golden Witch smiled warmly, crossing her arms, "I'm glad you do Alfred. And please...Just call me Beato."

Alfred heard her, but he was far too busy jumping up and down and acting like a seven year old to make a response, instead just screaming, "I BELIEVE IN MAGIC! I BELIEVE IN MAGIC! I REALLY DO BELIEVE IN MAGIC! I—"

_THUD!_

Alfred opened his eyes, finding himself on the floor of his bedroom, safe and sound in his Superman boxers and SpongeBob Squarepants tank top and tangled in the Mickey Mouse bed sheets that normally were spread on his bed.

"Ugh..." He rubbed his head, "What...what happened?" His head was throbbing from the hit he took from to the ground, his hands reaching for the end table to grab the digital clock and his glasses.

Alfred yanked the clock from its perch, his glasses tumbling off the nightstand and next to him on the floor. The blond squinted to see the glowing turquoise numbers across the clock's screen as he put on his glasses crookedly.

"5:23 in the morning?" Alfred's eyes bulged at the number, "No no...Does that mean that..." _Does that mean that she was all just a dream?_

The American's normally happy mood lowered, the thought of Beatrice—no, _Beato_—being all a dream almost _painful _to him. He could still remember her face... Hear her voice... Feel her lips...

"Aw come on!" Alfred threw the clock in a small fit of rage, not caring that the chord for the clock managed to knock all the things on the nightstand onto the floor as it followed the clock that was linked to it like a ball to a chain.

The blond stood up, a bit wobbly since he was still half cocooned in his blankets. Then, Alfred gazed outside his window, sighing as he had the moon's radiant lunar face gazing back at him. He didn't want the moon; he just wanted to know that the one of gold was real!

"Maybe I _do_ have an overactive imagination..." Alfred muttered, sitting back on the bed and looking out the window once more, "And it just ran away with me or something..." God, he hoped that didn't mean he'd end up like _Arthur_, talking to walls and empty spaces like some schizophrenic... "Yeah..."

Alfred leaned back, sighing as his head hit the pillow and his body melted to the mattress. He didn't care that his glasses were still on his face, his eyes were slowly closing either way, and nothing was going to stop him from getting much needed sleep.

Nothing that is, except for a glint of gold coming from a butterfly outside the pane of his window.

As soon as the gold was spotted, Alfred shot up, wildly flailing in his bed as he crawled to the window, pressing his face to the glass to see the familiar creature fluttering on the other side. A childish happy grin came to his face as the butterfly landed on the glass, right over where Alfred's lips were slammed against, sitting there for a moment before taking flight again and making small circles in the air before disintegrating into gold sparkling dust and vanishing.

Alfred watched this, his smile still widening. That was all he needed to see to know that it was true; that there was such thing as the Golden Witch.

He yawned, taking off his glasses after just noticing that they were still off, tossing them onto the nightstand without really caring where they landed. Alfred then flopped back on the bed, lying on his side, curling up and hugging the blankets as he drifted out of consciousness.

"I believe, Beato..." Alfred whispered as his last words before he, finally, fell asleep, knowing that the smile on his face wouldn't fade as long as he knew that there was magic and that there was her.

_**~The End~**_


End file.
